


Lingering

by SaltySapphic



Series: Memories Remain as Evidence of What We've done [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Branding, Flashbacks, Heavy Dom/sub overtones, Hurt/Comfort, Komaeda Nagito As The Servant, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26100052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySapphic/pseuds/SaltySapphic
Summary: Izuru marks what's his
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Memories Remain as Evidence of What We've done [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895014
Comments: 13
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the prequel to [You're the You I Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078293), but you don't necessarily have to read that
> 
> also, this got wayy darker than I had planned, so oops?

Servant knows his Master is blocking out the sounds of his gasps and shudders as he works, so he spends this time to think about how _the_ Ultimate Hope Izuru Kamukura called him into his _personal_ _bedroom_.

He can barely hear the **_shlick_** of metal slinging against metal on the other side of the person he loves most in this world past the rattling of his chain as he hugs himself and grins happily at his Master's back.

Izuru's hands stop moving and he addresses his pet.

"Pet," he says, his voice just as smooth as always.

However, Servant's, on the other hand, holds a feral giggle as the force of his grin makes his cheeks ache.

"Yes, Master?" Servant responds, drool spilling past his lips as he opens his mouth.

"Who do you belong to?" he's asked calmly.

Servant jerks back, his chain clinking and scraping across a small section of floor with the force of his shock. He regrets that when his Master flinches subtly at the sound.

Anyone else wouldn't have noticed it, as his talented, perfect Master is good at hiding things. Among many other things! Izuru is good at everything!

"Pet," is said firmly, jerking Servant out of his inner obsessive monologue.

"I'm so sorry, Master, I was thinking about how I belong to the most talented, perfect being in the entire world!" A shudder wrecks through his body and his eyes roll back for a moment. "To think! Someone as amazing and perfect as you, even acknowledging the existence of scum like me!"

"That's right," Izuru says, turning around and allowing Servant to finally see his Master's beautiful face. He takes a step forward, his heavy boots speckled with blood all that Servant dares to look at now that he's gotten a glance at his face.

A freshly sharpened knife lifts his chin, allowing Izuru's sharp red eyes to bore into Servant's own.

"Even scum like you can be my property," Izuru says as he lifts a boot and presses the bloody sole against the crotch of said property's pants.

Servant lets out a languid moan, jerking forward and nearly slitting his own throat on Izuru's knife.

But of course, his talented Master was expecting it and pulled it away in time.

He doesn't want to harm his most loyal pet.

Not yet, at least.

"You're getting drool on my shoe," Izuru states as if it were clean to begin with. 

Not that Servant would ever question his beloved Master.

"I would make you lick them clean if I didn't already have plans for you," he says, tracing his knife along his pet's jawline and cheekbones as he trembles at his feet.

"Plans?" Servant asks. "You made plans? You _thought_ about me, Master?" He laughs, tears filling his eyes.

Izuru hums. "I'm going to officially make you mine," he says, allowing the knife to dig into the skin of Servant's throat, bright pink blood slowly trickling down his pale throat.

Servant groans, his hips jerking up into Izuru's thick boot, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as more pressure is applied to his hard cock.

"Pathetic," Izuru comments, grinding his boot down and earning himself another moan.

He pulls back, dragging the knife along his skin once more and letting more blood drip slowly down his skin.

"Strip and get on the bed," Izuru demands, setting the knife on the bedside table before shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging it neatly in his closet. 

Servant's chain rattles loudly as he hurriedly undresses, messily folding and stacking his clothes in an attempt at a neat pile.

But he's shaking and giggling and excited, so it doesn't work very well.

He kneels on the bed, practically bouncing with excitement as his Master takes his time to turn his bored gaze onto his obedient pet.

"Lay back," he says, not allowing for his order to be followed willingly before he's raising a still-booted foot and slamming the sole into the middle of Servant's chest, even while his chain leash is directly between them.

He falls back immediately, a loud crack emanating from somewhere in his chest as the wind is knocked out of him.

The same boot roughly taps his legs as he's ordered to place his feet on the floor.

Servant complies immediately and stares at the ceiling, his chain cold against his heated skin.

Izuru, his tie gone and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, climbs on top of Servant and settles his weight on the submissive's fragile legs.

Izuru's hand rests on the print of the chain in his aching chest and presses down, feeling around the already bruising area.

"Oh dear," he says, no emotion in his voice, "it seems I've broken a couple of your ribs."

Servant tries to laugh, but it hurts his chest.

"That's alright, Master," he gasps, "it's what pathetic scum like me deserves! To be something as great as your property, your _pet_ ," he shudders, "it's only right to be balanced out by a few broken ribs! No! That's not enough! Hurt me more, Master! I don't deserve you!"

Izuru's long hair hides a smirk as Servant is preoccupied with hugging himself tightly, digging his nails into the fragile skin of his arms.

Then, Izuru looks him over. At the damage he's already done.

The welts from his knife tracing along the edges of his face are red, the blood on his neck already dried, and the large bruise in the center of his chest is deepening quickly.

Izuru can see blood trickling from where Servant is gripping himself tightly.

"Arms by your side," he orders with a sigh.

Servant looks up at him with questioning eyes but does as asked.

Izuru grips his knife as one might a pen and poises it neatly over Servant's skin, just above his right pec.

"You scar easily," Izuru states, as if making a casual observation. Though Servant knows his talented Master must've analyzed his skin and come to the correct conclusion.

A shudder wracks through Servant at the thought of his Master using one of his many talents on someone as lowly as him.

"A wonderful observation, Master!" Servant pants. "I will proudly wear any scars you wish to give me!"

Izuru huffs, but nods. He adjusts his hair clip to keep his unruly hair out of the way of his work before the knife makes contact with Servan's skin.

The carving is much deeper than anything else, but Servant holds back from vocalizing his pain. It could interrupt his Master's work.

The knife is lifted and Servant gets a moment's relief before it's pressed back down into his skin. This time, the knife curves, both points facing the previous line. The next time, it's another straight line down. Then another curve, except it turns into a diagonal line at the end.

After that, the pain is too excruciating for Servant to keep track, so he instead focuses on breathing, even as his chest rattles and wheezes. 

He stares at the ceiling before that becomes too much and he squeezes his eyes shut.

His legs are going numb and his stomach turns with the pain.

Izuru pauses and sits up, licking the knife and eyeing his handiwork.

And the next thing he does shoots fire straight down to his still hard cock.

Izuru leans down and licks the wound, gathering the blood and cleaning it for a better view. 

With the knife gone and the pain fading to a throbbing ache, Servant is coherent enough to see the desire burning in his Master's gaze when he pulls back.

Servant is lightheaded, all of his blood either in his cock or spilling out of his chest.

And Izuru isn't even done yet.

He leans back over and starts carving once more.

This time, though, the knife isn't lifted until he's done.

Servant's toes curl and he grips the sheets under him tightly.

He's extremely lightheaded, his nausea back at full force.

He's not sure why or how his cock is still hard, maybe it's the knowledge that his Master is enjoying himself.

Maybe he _likes_ this pain.

Either way, it _hurts_.

Black spots start to fill his vision and just as bile rises in the back of his throat, Izuru sits up.

Once again, he licks the blood off his knife, but this time he sets it aside completely.

And once again, he laps the blood off the fresh wound to admire his work before it's quickly covered with blood again.

"Pink is a lovely color on you," he muses, prompting Servant's lips to twist in a smile.

"To think, someone as amazing as you would even think of complimenting scum like me! I don't deserve this treatment!" Servant says, his voice weaker than he thought it would be.

His Master simply hums before running his hand over the bloody words on the other's chest, coating his fingers in blood.

Servant's brows furrow when he reaches a hand behind him, but it's not long before he's gasping as bloody fingers trace at his entrance.

Servant's eyes widen and his mouth drops open when a finger presses in, the way eased by the blood.

He's given little to no time to adjust before a second finger is pushing its way in beside the first, the stretch burning slightly as they thrust in and out.

He lets out little gasps and moans as his eyes are trapped looking into the red hot gaze of Izuru's.

The fingers separate, scissoring as they thrust in and out, and Servant fights not to squeeze his eyes shut.

Desire is burning bright is Izuru's eyes, and it's the most emotion Servant has seen in them since they were filled with disgust the first time they met.

However, he can't keep them open when his sweet spot is hit and his body jerks. But he opens them as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss _anything_.

His Master's lips twitch up into a sly grin that's smoothed out so quickly that Servant almost didn't notice.

It doesn't take long for Izuru to decide that Servant is ready. He gets easily bored, after all.

And Servant would _never_ want his Master to be bored with him.

Izuru removes his fingers and wipes the excess blood on Servant's cheek before he stands and pulls his dress pants down far enough to free his hard cock.

Drool pools in and spills out of Servant's mouth, even as his head lulls to the side, unable to lift it without the world spinning around him.

Izuru redirties his hand by smearing Servant's blood around his chest. Then he uses said blood to coat his cock, wetting it before he presses the head against Servant's entrance.

Even as Servant whimpers and twitches, Izuru's face is even and calm, aside from the lust swirling in his red eyes, of course.

Servant blinks and the next thing he knows, his numb leg is being pushed up towards his chest with a bloody hand on his thigh as he's pounded into furiously.

He must've passed out. But Servant doesn't mind, he's not deserving of experiencing something like this in full.

Izuru's tongue is on his wound again, licking, lapping, sucking at the bloody carving.

He only looks up when his cock hits Servant's prostate and causes him to let out a hoarse scream.

Pink blood is covering his lower face and dripping down, staining his shirt collar.

The manic grin on his face makes Servant gasp and whimper.

He blinks and again the scene changes.

A booted foot is propped on the bed and his leg is tossed over the other's knee. The hand that _was_ holding said leg to his chest is now resting on his chest, his fingers curled over his shoulder as his thumb fingers the bloody words on his chest.

Izuru's other hand is gripping Servant's hip bruisingly.

His lips move but Servant doesn't hear it, his ears ringing and vision slowly being filled with black spots.

He can _feel_ though. He can feel the pleasure of the cock inside of him, pounding away at his prostate, he can feel the grip on his hip, and the tingling of minimal amounts of blood flowing back into his leg.

He can feel the pain of his new brand, the ache of his chest, the sharp stabbing whenever he breathes.

And he can feel when a hand tightens around his throat, pushing his collar up, causing it to dig into his skin.

His hand weakly lifts and does nothing more than settle on top of his Master's as his airway is cut off.

He makes hesitant eye contact with his Master just before his vision blurs and he smiles.

Servant is happy at the thought of his Master not being bored of him just yet. It's still happening, so he must be doing _something_ right.

The pressure around his throat lessens and he sucks in painful breaths, his lungs wheezing with the effort.

He jumps when the hand moves from his hip to around his cock and strokes in time with his brutal thrusts.

Servant tries to scream, but his airway is cut off once more.

He thinks he cums, his vision goes white and he feels the splatter on his chest, but it all happens fast before his vision blacks.


	2. Chapter 2

Servant wakes to an empty room.

He's in Izuru's bed and covered with a sheet.

His entire body aches and his head spins when he sits up with a groan.

He looks over and sees a note tucked under a glass of water, gauze, and medical tape next to it.

Servant picks up the note and water, which seems as though it may have had ice in it at one point. The top of the note where it was under the glass is wrinkled, as if it had been wet, and dried over time, the ink running slightly.

'Drink this and replace your bandage,' is all it says.

"It  _ would _ be troublesome if it got infected," Servant mutters to himself, just now noticing the bandage over the work his Master had done the previous night. He shudders when he thinks about last night, pressing his thighs together and whimpering to himself.

Servant shakes himself and chugs the slightly cloudy water that his thoughtful Master had left for him.

It hurts to swallow, he notes, though it's nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

He pushes through it, though, standing slowly and holding onto the bedside table when the world spins and he nearly falls over.

He's wearing fresh underwear.

Servant slowly makes his way into the bathroom, grabbing the supplies he needs on the way and he feels almost giddy as he looks in the mirror.

His chest aches, his ribs ache, his neck, and hips are sore, but he's  _ excited _ to see what his Master left on him.

Not to mention the fact that he'd been cleaned up and washed and somewhat dressed while passed out.

Servant doesn't want to assume, but it seems as though Izuru  _ cares _ about him. 

How wonderful! Caring about scum like him!

With that thought, Servant grins happily as he peels back the bloody bandage.

Though reversed in the mirror, Nagito can read the message plain as day.

'Property of Izuru Kamukura'

His name is written in cursive as if he'd signed his name, while the rest is in print.

The lettering, of course, is perfect. It seemed as though everything Izuru did was perfect.

At least, that's the way Nagito once thought about it.

He lets out a shocked gasp when arms wrap around his waist, the chin of his lover resting on his shoulder. Lips press against his bare throat as they make eye contact in the mirror.

"You were thinking about it again," Hajime states, his eyes darting down to look at the scar before meeting Nagito's eyes again.

He nods, breaking eye contact to look down at where his hands tightly grip the sink.

Hajime's arms squeeze around his waist and tears drip onto his hands.

"It's hard to think negatively about something you once cherished," Nagito mutters with a humorless laugh.

Neither of them are sure if he's talking about the scar or the man who left it, but that doesn't matter.

Hajime lifts a hand and turns Nagito's, kissing him softly before simply resting their foreheads together. He wipes away tears with his thumb as he holds his lover's face.

"It's okay now," he says softly. " _ You're _ okay now. I've got you."

With a sob wracking through his body, Nagito turns in Hajime's arms and wraps his arms around him.

Hajime lifts his other hand to hold Nagito's face in both, cradling his head softly as his thumbs rub soothing circles into his skin.

He lets Nagito cry, whispering soothing assurances.

Flashbacks are hard for both of them, and this is the best way for Nagito to get through them. 

Being held by his lover as he's told how loved he is.

This time, though, Nagito asks, "Did he love me?" startling Hajime.

Hajime thinks back, eyebrows furrowed. This isn't really something he's ever thought about before.

"Nevermind," Nagito says, burying his face in Hajime's neck. 

Hajime runs his fingers through his hair and says, "Honestly? It's hard to tell. I don't think he even knew what love is. He was nearly emotionless, Nagito, whether or not he loved you shouldn't matter. He's gone."

They both know that he isn't  _ really _ gone. Remnants of him remain. His influence, his memories. But Nagito nods anyway.

"I know," he says, his voice cracking. "It's just something I find myself thinking about sometimes. Less and less often but," he pauses. "But now I'm brave enough to ask. For closure."

Hajime nods, and just like that the conversation is over.

"Hey, you're safe. You're good. I love you more than anything," Hajime says over and over, variations holding the same sentiment voiced with passion to his lover.

Neither knows how much time passed when Nagito lifts his head up, eyes red and puffy.

He lifts his flesh hand up to rub at them, but Hajime bats his hand away, pulling back to grab a wad of toilet paper and dab at his lover's tingling cheeks.

"I got your shirt wet," Nagito comments, his voice raspy from crying. "Sorry."

Hajime freezes, before bursting out in surprised laughter when the words register.

Nagito flushes and looks away, a slight pout on his lips.

Hajime coos, loosely wrapping his arms around his neck and tugging him forward.

"I forgive you," he says, knowing Nagito will obsess over it otherwise. 

Hajime smiles as he nudges his lover to look at him.

Nagito does so, and it doesn't take long for him to give in and smile back.

Hajime leans in for a kiss, tightening his grip as he does so.

When they pull back, Nagito tries to rest his head against his shoulder again, but he pulls back with a grimace.

"Wet," is all he says before laying his head on his other shoulder. 

Hajime chuckles and turns to kiss Nagito's temple before swaying them back and forth.

Nagito hums and wraps his arms around Hajime's waist, joining in on the soft swaying.

"I love you, too," Nagito says, a content smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the softness makes up for the pain

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/salty_sapphic)!!


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